


lay your sins to rest

by ILoveMisha2



Series: The end [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean - Freeform, Destiel if you squint?, Endverse, Hurt, Other, Supernatural - Freeform, The End, castiel - Freeform, mention of suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 18:16:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3738556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ILoveMisha2/pseuds/ILoveMisha2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember watching him in this cabin, sitting where you are now. He had his head in one hand while the other was holding the rolled joint in the other. You thought he was tired, resting maybe, then you heard the sob break free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lay your sins to rest

**Author's Note:**

> R.I.P Skylyr, i hope you're killing it in heaven.  
> this is for my brother who died in 2012. i was going to upload this on his birthday which was April 9th but i wasn't okay enough to do so. anyway this is in honor of him. i know this fic is not happy and it's not to pleasant and it is about death but it's all i could think to write. i love and miss him dearly.

You’re in his cabin, sitting on his bed; bare feet traveling across the scavenged carpet. You look up at the beads that surround his doorway and try and recall how many times you walked through them happy. You don’t want to remember the times you were angry, you don’t want to look at the chair in the corner that you broke. You wonder why he kept that broken chair that only signified who you really were. Ho w many times did he look at that chair just to remind himself of who you had become, so he wouldn’t fall any more than he already had. You realize now that you fell with him.

You look at his night stand so you can try and forget that stupid chair. Your eyes scan over the things he had collected over the years, things you helped him find. A necklace, a few buttons, bottle caps, a jewelry box; his oh so important drugs were all scattered across his dresser. You remember when those drugs made you want to break him. You couldn’t though because he was already so broken, and that was because of you. You knew that no matter how many times he tried to convince you otherwise. You were always responsible for that. Somewhere though between it all he just got lost. No. he gave up. He let the rhythm of hell enter him, rattle his bones and make them hollow. He let you stop his heart and remove it as if he was the monster.

You remember watching him in this cabin, sitting where you are now. He had his head in one hand while the other was holding the rolled joint in the other. You thought he was tired, resting maybe, then you heard the sob break free. You saw his frame shake and the joint fall. He said your name like it was a curse and for a moment you thought he spotted you. You were about to reveal yourself and admit that you were in fact there but then he got up. He was shaky with a desperate look on his face, the tears still falling as he reached for the whiskey and drank a bit then tipped it over and watched it spill. You’d never seen him like that before, didn’t know he could get like that, and it was all because of you. You remember the wild look in his eyes when he roughly shoved all of his collected things off his dresser and crumpled to the floor. He cringed into himself, holding himself tightly, probably wishing you dead. You h ad to leave because you couldn’t help him, not today. You didn’t want him to know that you saw him like this and knew it was you. You didn’t want him to know you knew that you were the reason he was lifeless. You know you were a terrible friend.

You got up and ran your hands over the stuff, trying to will a smile on your face. All you could achieve was a grimace because you couldn’t forget what you remembered. You wondered how many times he forced a smile. You wish you could’ve seen him smile genuinely before he . . . you can’t let yourself think of that. You promised yourself you wouldn’t. You’ve made your way to his cracked mirror somehow, looking at your reflection, and you hope he didn’t see what you are right now. You know he did. It’s hard because you don’t recognize yourself and you know he didn’t either and he always tried to see you as so much more than you really were. He tried to keep you, you, and in the process he ruined himself. You would’ve stopped your own heart if it meant that he could be here now. You would’ve captured the nearest star if he had asked you. All he ever asked for though was you and ‘you’ just didn’t exist anymore.

You lay back on his bed, blankets in a heap like he always had them, and you closed your eyes. You shut them tight and pretended to be dead. You pretend you’re with him and can feel his touch upon your cheek, his breath against your ear whispering apologies. You can almost hear him laugh, see his smile, things you haven’t encountered in so long. You grip the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself because you’re drowning fast, you need to remember where you are, you need to reach the surface so the hope of him coming back doesn’t fill your lungs and turn you cold. You wish he were here to ground you, lift you up and take you home with him where you belong. You wish he’d stop your heart so you could be just like him.

You turn your head and open your eyes just to come face to face with where he took the remnants of who he was away from you for good. The wall is still dark, the blood stained the wood like it stained your memories. The gun is still where it fell from his hands.

You refused to move the stuff but way before that you refused to move his body. You know it really wasn’t his, it was Jimmy Novak’s but Jimmy left way before Castiel did. That body wasn’t his but it was all you had to remember him as beside the drugged out ex-angel. He let you remember him this way, he let you walk in on the only thing he had power over. His own life. He allowed you to walk in and tear yourself apart with the meaning of what this was, of what he had done. He left you and that’s all you can think about, you feel guilty already, you don’t want to remember how he felt, you remember enough already.

You sit up and slide to the end of the bed, feet touching the carpet once again. You can’t breathe now, you can’t think. He took it all from you. All you can do is feel. You feel every touch he laid upon you whether it was a shove of anger or a hug of relief. You hear his words travel through you, destroying you once again. You feel all the things you were never meant to, the needle, the first joint, the feel of betraying the righteous man, of betraying your heart, piercing green eyes, the feel of a gun against your temple. You feel his life. It’s running through, stunning you and deepening your sorrow. Flash after flash hits you, the guns so cold, your mind so weak, his voice so far away. You still can’t breathe as his arms wrap around you and he’s whispering your name like you can save him. You wish you could’ve. He grabs your hand and hushes your sobs because he knows this isn’t you, it’s not supposed to be. You’re the fearless leader. You swear he’s here, you swear to God he’s here.

Your breathing evens out and you can still feel him, you swear you can. He’s here like he’s never been before, he’s alive in more ways than one and you smile because it’s all you’ve ever wanted, for him to be happy. He says that he is; that he’s more than happy. His words melt your soul, they take away everything you’ve ever felt and replace it with him. You’re not lost, you’re not broken, you’re not the guy he hated so much anymore.

You take a deep breath and open your eyes wanting to see him clearly; wanting to memorize the smile he wears effortlessly. But when you open your eyes his arms fade away, his voice is silent and it’s dark once more, not in the same way but dark all the same. You let a few tears drop before wiping them away and coughing to get your bearings.

You move your feet across the carpet again like you used to do so many times before when he was here and you were humoring him for one reason or another. You move your feet back towards the bed farther and come across something small. You bend down and roam your hand around blindly until you grasp the object. As you bring it up you know it feels familiar and you don’t want to open your hand. You pray to whoever is listening that it isn’t what you think it is. Your hand opens and in the middle of your palm is the amulet your brother gave you so long ago, back when being brothers still counted. A lump grows in your throat as you read the little note attached to the cord that says ‘Happy Birthday, I’m sorry I couldn’t get you more-Cas’ you clutch the amulet tight in your hand and read over his words once more. He shouldn’t be sorry, you should.

How long did it take him to find it? What did he have to go through to bring a piece of you back? When did he realize you could never come back, not from this, not from him? When did he realize that you weren’t worth it, worth coming back?

You’re sorry. You’re so sorry that you couldn’t fix him that you weren’t there when it mattered the most. You weren’t there to stop the pills, to calm his storm, to gently pull away the gun . . . You look at the amulet and the guilt hits you once more. You’re alone, just like he was, just like you made him.

Now you know what he wanted you to feel and you know you deserve nothing less.

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters in this fic nor will i ever.


End file.
